The Beauty of Death
by The Mysterious One1
Summary: It began one night when five boys were found ripped to shreds outside the city. Reports of the monstrous wolf kept coming in soon afterwards but none of the victims lived for long, leaving little for investigators and Static to go on. completed
1. The Atrocity in the City

The Beauty of Death

Part One - The Atrocity in the City

Warning: will be morbid (I mean, the show isn't really that bloody... It's more upbeat than anything else.)

It all began on a night that death claimed as its' own. Five male teenagers had been found outside Dakota City by a nervous old man who would often take walks near the surrounding area. Each of the boys were ripped to shreds as if by an animal. Their blood was splattered across the ground upon which their remains rested. One had lived long enough to sputter a few last words, eyes wide with crazed terror and pain. "Wolf… huge!" Cringing at the broken memories, his words made little sense, painting an indiscernible picture, "Gold, teeth, tearing…" and with a final sinking shudder, he was gone. With his mouth left open in a fearful gape, eyes staring upward at some unseen monstrosity, he was far from being the last to see the awful beast. His words soon became the outcry of many more like him as the reports of the monstrous wolf continued to pour in, leaving investigators baffled. There was only one conclusion.

A metahuman gone out of control. Way out of control.

Virgil was growing frustrated with his inability to do anything about it. "Usually Static can do what Virgil can't, but in this case they're both helpless. It seems like every time I go out and find another victim the mystery keeps growing. I can't find anything. No clues. Nothing." He sighed, leaning forwards and loosely placing his arms against the inside of his parted legs in defeat, "I don't know what to do anymore, Rich."

"Maybe there's a pattern to the killings."

Virgil shook his head at the suggestion, "I already tried that. There isn't a pattern. Adults, children, there's no discrimination between age. The only thing close to a pattern is the fact that most of the victims are male."

"Well, there's a start." It looked like Richie had something more to say but…

The black boy stood without acknowledging Richie's comment, "I'm going to go look around." He grabbed his blue backpack and changed into Static. Flipping out his disk, he magnetized it and flew out the door without so much as a backwards glance.

"Don't be too hard on yourself Virgil…" Richie whispered, watching his friend's retreating form before he closed the door to the abandoned gas station.

Static felt the wind his speed was causing brush against his face, then slid past with a soft mournful whine as if not wanting to let go. It made his blue trench coat billow out behind him in an almost cape-like manner, the wind clawing, trying to hold on if only for a little longer before giving up.

His face was solemn, body subdued as he scanned the city below. His thoughts weren't on the thrill of flying freely. They lay elsewhere, somewhere far less carefree. He'd known some bangbabies to be dangerous, Boom and Hotstreak had both been evidence of that. What he didn't know was that one day he would come across a bangbaby that killed for no apparent reason. None of the victims had been robbed and most had just been regular citizens living lives without enemies. It was because of this that the situation struck home for him. His mother had been killed in a meaningless squabble when a group of troublemakers decided to ransack the city, terrorizing the people who lived there for fun. He hadn't been able to rescue his mother even when he had gone back into time. He couldn't stop her from being a paramedic. Well, this time things weren't going to be the same. This time he was going to make sure he found the killer and put him into the slammer. This time he was going to succeed where he'd once failed.

Static spotted a collection of police cars and an ambulance with lights flashing. There was also a small crowd of people encircling the scene. He dropped down to see what had happened. What he found hadn't surprised him however; he'd almost been expecting it. "Another one?" he asked.

"'fraid so, Static." The officer flipped his notebook shut, looking over at the mauled thing that could have once been called a human. "We weren't even able to identify the victim, not when looking like that. We'll have to do some DNA testing."

The press was already on the scene asking questions, trying to snatch whatever tidbit they could, and for good reason. It appeared that the victim might have managed to videotape his attacker. A lucky break for all those involved if the tape did indeed contain footage of the wolf.

"Is it alright if I saw the tape?"

The officer was about to answer him when some commotion caught his attention. A frantic woman had pushed her way in front of the t.v. news camera and made a prompt statement. "It's a wolf spirit of old, come back to avenge the injustice human-kind has placed upon wolves," she cried. "It was only a matter of time before we paid for the sins of our forefathers!" Two officers grabbed her and pulled her away but she kept preaching over her shoulder, making sure that the world would hear her message.

"The wolf is nothing more than a metahuman. Crazy animal activist!" the officer with the notebook muttered to himself, shaking his head with a disgruntled sigh. He explained to Static, "She shows up at whatever crime scene she learns of to deliver her 'message of repentance'. She really should be locked up."

"I'd have to agree with you on the crazy part." Static commented aloud. An instant suspicion crept within, 'But if she knows where most of the victims are then maybe she's-' his mental deduction was unintentionally cut off by the officer.

"Now, about the tape. I'm sure there'd be no problem with you seeing it but you do understand we'll have to keep it for evidence."

"Do you think you could make a copy of it then?"

"I don't see why not."

- - - -

Virgil knew no one would be home for a while yet. Sharon was off with her friends for the afternoon and his dad was working so it was a convenient time for him to watch the video without worrying about someone walking in on it. He didn't feel like explaining how he got the tape. He popped it in and sank down onto the couch with his eyes level, preparing himself for anything.

The video garbled for a moment then finally showed a clear image of the street where the victim had been found, however the picture moved as if the camera was being moved rapidly. It must have snagged on something because then it stopped, showing the downward angle of a boy not much older than Virgil. The boy's skin was slightly dark but the shape of his face gave away that he was of Hispanic descent. He had brown hair reaching down to his shoulders with a bronze streak on either side of his bangs. On his right cheek he had a circle and to the left of it a triangle very similar to the play symbol on a cd player only flipped so that it was pointing the opposite way. Virgil recognized him from school but didn't know his name. Then he noticed it. The boy had golden eyes, golden eyes. He rewound it and paused it to make sure he hadn't seen things. He hadn't.

He hit play again. The boy on the screen was laughing with a snide look on his face, as if enjoying something tremendously. He slowly walked forwards in a taunting way, towards the man, Virgil figured, and as he did so his form began to change. His skin grew ashen gray and began to bulge before fur of the same color sprouted everywhere. Well, except for the streak running down his chest and on his cheeks, which were bronze; not to mention the circle and the triangle, which remained. His body kept growing in size and it wasn't long before he was forced to drop upon his hands and knees, his legs no longer able to hold him upright. By now he was the size of an Irish wolfhound. The changes continued as his nose and mouth seemed to stretch away from the rest of his face, nose darkening into a dog-like one. A pair of long front canines stuck out of his mouth almost past his now doggish chin. Tufts of long fur ran along the edges of his ears making them appear longer than they probably were. Instead of one tail, he had three rather long fox-like tails, the tips bronze in color.

The morphed boy then lurched forwards and out of the camera's range, but the screams of the man and the snarls of the wolf were enough for Virgil's imagination. He didn't need to know what had happened, he already knew.

It was time to call Richie.

"What's up V?"

"I know who the killer is."

"Huh?" came the startled response.

"Remember that kid we saw a few weeks ago jabbering on in Spanish after walking out of the principle's office?"

"Yeah…" Richie drew out the word as he recalled, wondering what that had to do with anything.

Virgil dropped the surprise on him, "Well, he's our man." Then he went on to tell him what had happened during his patrol, ending with a request. "Keep an eye out for him on Monday. I get the distinct feeling that the police are gonna need a lot of help on this one. If you know what I mean."

The rest of the weekend went by fairly slow for Virgil. He just couldn't wait until Monday dawned. He tried to hide his impatience from his family but botched the effort as the looked-for school day took its time in coming.

"What's wrong with you Virgil?" Sharon asked on Sunday evening, catching him in the hallway before he could get into his room. Her hand was on her hip as she looked at him with a cocked head and that particular older sister inquiring look she always gave when she was annoyed with him. "You've been even more jittery than usual."

She said more than usual because he'd become restless ever since the wolf attacks started. Apparently his acting skills had taken a hike and left him in the dry. "There was another killing, a lot closer to our neighborhood. I'm just ah… getting nervous that's all," he replied with as much sincerity as he could muster at the moment.

Her look softened to one of understanding. "I know. I sure wish Static would do something about it."

"I think he's doing what he can," Virgil stuck up for his other identity. Sharon shrugged without further comment, perhaps choosing to not argue with him, who knew.

The moment he was in his room he closed the door and peeled off his shirt and pants, then slipped into bed with a sigh. He was not sure if he'd be able to sleep. He was right to some extent, not drifting off until around 12:30.

When he woke up groggy the next day to Sharon rapping on his door, it took him a while to comprehend the fact that it was now Monday. It also took him a bit to fully wake up and get his butt in gear so that he wouldn't be late. But by the time he was at school, he instantly fell into another fit of fidgets very much like the one he'd tried (and failed) to hide during the weekend. He just couldn't sit still. His mind kept wandering and so he missed half, if not all of his lessons.

All day he saw nothing of the Hispanic he'd dubbed 'wolf-boy' and wondered if Richie had had better luck than he. He popped the question the moment he was within talking range of Richie.

"Sorry, Virg, I even asked some other people if they'd seen him. No such luck."

"Saw who?" Daisy questioned as she came up to the two boys.

"Oh this one guy," Virgil said quickly. Maybe she knew his whereabouts. "He's Hispanic, probably in our grade. Has this circle and triangle tattooed on his one cheek, and apparently dyed some of his hair a bronze color."

A look of recognition crossed her face. "Arturo Ramírez. He was here for a while but the school booted him out for misbehaving."

"Great… just great…" Richie said dryly, rolling his eyes. He looked at Virgil, "So now what are we going to do?"

"I don't know…" the other admitted.

"Why were you looking for him anyway?" Daisy inquired. The boys bristled a little at the question.

"We were just trying to figure out what happened to him. He didn't seem to be having fun at the principle's office a while back," Richie responded, thinking quick on his feet. It wasn't necessarily a lie, just… a plausible and rather vague answer.

She took it. "Oh."

Richie and Virgil exchanged a hidden look of relief when Daisy wasn't paying attention.

A/N This is my first Static Shock fic. I tried to keep the characters true to their personality, but considering that this is more morbid than the show, some differences are bound to appear. sighs Anyway, please tell me how I did? Thanks a whole lot! -


	2. Not the Only One Looking

The Beauty of Death

Part Two - Not the Only One Looking

It didn't matter what way Static looked at it. He was back at square one. The murderer was still a phantom disappearing into the maze-like city after massacring an innocent, evading capture and leaving no traces as to his whereabouts. Sure Static now knew his name and what he looked like but he had no clue as to where to search. The city of Dakota was huge and Arturo could be hiding in any number of places.

Static pushed aside the feeling of being overwhelmed before it became the prominent part of his thoughts and consumed him. He didn't have the time to allow the weight of his job to get in the way. He'd just start in one section of the city and then go from there. Each night he would begin from where he left off the night before. That was, if he could risk continuing the search each night. Coming out here like this was becoming harder and harder. You see, it wasn't just because they were school nights; his father refused to allow him out on his own due to the attacks.

…And he thought balancing two lives was a chore before all of this began! He shook the thought off. He'd just have to deal.

It was time to go home. He was late as it was and his father wasn't going to be very happy about it but Static already had a plan. After giving Richie an update on his unsuccessful night via the shock box, he let him in on the plan. "We're going to pretend we're working on an after school project. That way if he questions you, we'll have the same story."

"What kind of project?"

"Extra credit for history."

"Good cover up, just one problem there V. What if he decides to check with the teacher?" It dawned on Richie, "Oh no. Uh-uh."

"Please, Richie? I really need you to do this for me. You know I can't work on it with you while I'm looking for wolf-boy. Besides, you still haven't fixed Backpack so you can't exactly help me if he decides to make things difficult." Backpack had gotten beaten up pretty badly during one of their excursions and Richie couldn't seem to find the time to sit down and fix it during the school week.

"Alright, fine, but you owe me big."

"Thanks man." He put the shock box away and found a spot near his house to change. Tucking Static away, he became Virgil Hawkins once more, ready for the fire he knew he'd get the moment his dad knew he was home. …And he got it alright.

"I thought I told you to come home right after school? You know I don't want you walking by yourself out there in the dark. Not with that metahuman on the loose."

"I know Pops, I know. Richie and I are working on some extra credit for history in order to get my marks up. I had to stay out late."

"You should have called! You had us worried," Sharon scolded.

Virgil winced. "I forgot?" he offered.

His father frowned, "You're grounded." The words were sudden, even a bit unexpected.

"But what about-" Virgil started but was cut off.

"Call us when you're done at school and one of us will come pick you up," his father said.

There was little he could say in response. He merely nodded and headed for his room. His plans hadn't been ruined however. He could still sneak out after school, search, and then return. It wouldn't be much different from what he'd done that night, there'd just be a different return point.

He sure was grateful for what Richie was doing for him though. The guy was a true friend and for that he was thankful. He'd have to think of something major in order to pay him back but he felt tired at the moment and so eagerly succumbed the luring call of his bed.

It sure seemed like he'd been tired a lot since this whole thing started. It just zapped the energy right out of him. He was lucky that there wasn't much else going on otherwise he'd be in some really deep water. You would think that the crooks would take this opportunity to raid the city while it was gripped by fear but apparently they were scared as well. One of the victims did turn out to be a metahuman after all. To most people, metahumans were something to be afraid of, something much more powerful than they. Which was true. Some metahumans weren't exactly the cuddly type. Maybe those crooks finally got it into their heads that no one was safe. At least that was the hope he held and refused to let go of.

Despite the dangers his fervent searching entailed he wouldn't rule himself out. Yes, he'd discovered the fragility of his mortality many times when fighting crime. It was dangerous work. He knew he could easily be killed by Arturo but that was the risk that came with the territory. He wasn't going to let the morphing bangbaby scare him. His sense of duty was too strong. The love for this city and its people remained firm. Virgil was not going to let harm come to it or, more importantly, to his family and friends. Never, ever.

- - - -

The week had drifted by, each day building onto his rapidly growing disappointment. Each night's self pep talk he gave began to sound less and less reassuring. It was already Thursday and he'd still seen nothing of Aruturo. He was quickly running out of city to search. Where could he be hiding? With a resigning sigh, Static turned to go back to school and call his dad. He'd almost missed the oddly placed man bent slightly over something in an alleyway. Curious, he paused to get a better look. The old Hispanic was holding a rifle cocked and hanging on the inside of his elbow joint as he loaded it.

"Last time I checked, hunting within city limits was illegal," Static said without his usual brazened attitude or smile as he lowered himself until he was floating a foot off the ground, blocking the alley exit. At the same time he magnetized the rifle and called it to his hand. "Looks like I'm going to have to report you."

"Go ahead, that won't stop me." The man spoke in a gruff voice without the probable Hispanic accent, his squinted brown eyes settling on Static. They were emitting a buried hatred that sprang from an unknown depth deep within, for reasons Static couldn't even guess. It jolted him a bit. The wrinkles sketched on the man's worn face only added to his intensity, to the wild sense of purpose which he seemed to be emanating as a whole as if driven by something unstoppable. The entire man was sturdy and hard. Even if he was bent a little from old age there was nothing about him that gave away hints of weakness. "I'll get that darn'd wolf even ifs'ya sent in the army after me."

"Whoa, whoa!" Static waved a gloved hand as if it alone would make the man stop talking. "Hold on a minute. You're not seriously going after wolf-boy by yourself. That's plain suicide!"

"I'm gonna kill that monster b'fore it kills anyone else 'n nobody is gonna stop me. Nobody, ya hear?" His stubborn stance made that pretty evident but Static was going to try and convince him otherwise anyway.

"Look, if you go after him you're as good as dead, with or without a gun. He's fast. I've seen him move before. He'd be on top of you before you could even get a clear shot."

"Not if it doesn't see me first."

He returned that with a cleverly thought out reply that he'd hoped would get the man to rethink his decision but the man merely brushed it aside with a rough sentence. It was like trying to stop a rock from falling. The man just refused to budge from his choice of action.

After a moment of unyielding silence, the man lowered his intense gaze and frowned at the ground, shifting his weight as if about to make a decision he didn't want to make. He sounded chastened but annoyed at the same time, "I've seen ya. Yar lookin' for it as well. Ya won't find it. Not flyin' out in the air like ya've been doin'."

"Oh? Then what do you suggest?" Static hadn't expected the immediate change in the man. Was he about to help him?

"It knows people are lookin' for it. It probably expects ya to go after it." The man shrugged, his light jacket rustling. "May be it wants ya to. May be it plans to play with ya b'fore it decides to kill ya. In either case, it'd be best ifs'ya bring yar search to the ground."

"I'll uh… keep that in mind." The idea of Arturo hunting, even playing around with him wasn't exactly all that appealing.

Static's watch suddenly beeped, alerting him that he was out of time. He needed to get back to the school otherwise his dad would get suspicious if he stayed too long. He looked back at the man. "Looks like I've got to go but don't think this gets you off the hook. I'm still going to call you in."

Static glanced at the rifle, trying to decide what he was going to do with it. Giving it back to the old man wasn't a good idea considering he would probably go off hunting the wolf. If he was fast enough he could get it to the police and tell them about the man, then get back to school. He'd be later than usual but he really couldn't help that.

"I'll be taking this with me, just incase you try something while I'm away."

The man straightened a little, scowling at him but instead of saying what Static anticipated, he stated his name. "Joaquin. The name is Joaquin."

Static paused not expecting the man to introduce himself in that manner. Joaquin sure was the surprising type. The boy nodded, "and I'm Static."

- - - -

"So how did it go last night?" Richie asked, glancing up from his work on Backpack. It was after school on Friday and the two boys were chilling out at the gas station. Another story had been invented by Virgil in order for him to get away from his house for the weekend. He promised that he wouldn't go out and about, especially in the evening which was when most of the killings had occurred. Of course, he had no intention of keeping that promise. At least, not as Virgil Hawkins.

"Well, it turns out the police and I aren't the only ones looking for Arturo. I had a run in with this old guy named," he shook his head with a dismissive raised hand as he tried to recall the name, "Walkeen or something like that." He shrugged, "Anyway, he was going to make some nice holes in wolf-boy before I took his rifle away."

"He was going to do what!" Richie straightened in his seat to get a better look at Virgil. He wasn't really asking a question, just voicing his disbelief.

The other boy shrugged his agreement, "I can't understand his logic either. I mean you can't just waltz around with a rifle and expect to take out a bangbaby with it. I think the guy's got a few things loose up here if you know what I mean." He tapped his head and raised his eyebrows with the typical 'someone's crazy' teenager look. He sighed and dropped both the expression and his hand. "I'm just hoping he doesn't do anything stupid if he does manage to elude the police."

"Let me guess, he's some kind of fanatic." Richie raised one eyebrow.

"Oh yeah," he exhaled noisily.

Richie then grinned, taking the opportunity that had presented itself to lighten Virgil's mood. Virgil was so caught up with the whole Arturo thing that he hardly joked around like he once did. Everything that had happened lately was changing him and though Richie hated to admit it, it scared him. Maybe his suggestion to V on becoming a superhero the day Virgil showed him his powers had been a bad one. A tinge of regret had begun to manifest itself within him during the past few weeks as he'd watched his best friend change before him. But those were dark thoughts of times already gone by, thoughts that came and went in a flash. He paid them little heed, barely letting them faze him. He wouldn't let them bug him… for now.

"Look on the bright side, at least you're not the only crazy one out there."

Richie's words invoked an old spark within Virgil and a faint smile found its way onto his face despite everything. Along with it came a brilliant response, his old self coming back if only momentarily. "Better watch what you say there blondie. It won't be long before you become one of those 'crazies'." He motioned towards the mechanical device hailed as Backpack, the smile slipping away once more. "How long do you think it's gonna take you to fix?"

"Dunno, probably by tomorrow afternoon." Richie said then thought, 'At least I know that the old Virgil is still in there somewhere.'

"Only that long? Why didn't you just work on it during the week?" Virgil pulled up a chair beside his friend.

"I had our 'project' to do, remember?"

"Oh yeah, that."

"Plus I had other things to do."

"Mostly school related," Virgil guessed easily. He wasn't kidding around, instead being completely serious.

"At least I didn't forget about today's biology test."

Virgil winced a little. "I have my reasons. Some very good reasons and you know that."

The other boy only smiled, understanding.

The radio had been on the entire time, playing softly in the background. The current song ended and another promised half hour of uninterrupted music would resume after a short newsbreak. There was nothing unusual about that. It was the contents of the second report that immediately caught their attention. There'd been yet another killing by the alleged Saberwolf. The name Saberwolf being the one that the media had so cleverly given the metamorphic boy based on rather shaky descriptions from dying victims.

Virgil's expression became drawn, his jaw tightening. "Better get back to work."

A/N Hey You! (Sorry Digi, I just had to… you did say that was one of your nicknames. grins) Thanks so much for the review! I feel loved. Hope you liked the second part! I would have gotten it up sooner but I delayed working on the last part yesterday. I was being lazy. :p

Next time: Part Three - Confronting the Courier of Death


	3. Confronting the Courier of Death

The Beauty of Death

Part Three - Confronting the Courier of Death

The victim lay staring emptily at the sky, looking but no longer able to see. Her entire body was intact except for the hole in her chest where her heart should have been. The girl's insides glistened with crimson blood, spilling out over her chest and onto the ground. White broken ribs were exposed to the air in upward curves as if lifted in search for the life giving organ that had been stolen. Seeing her like this forced Static to look away and fight the urge to throw up. Sure he'd seen several others in similar if not worse conditions than hers, but he still hadn't gotten used to it. He doubted he ever would.

A thought crossed his mind. If he thought looking at her was disgusting, then why did he keep coming out here to take a look at the victims when he could guess their appearances without even seeing them. He wondered even more on why he did it when he knew he'd be unable to find any clues. Maybe he was just hoping for something to show itself.

"Hu, look like it been her time to die."

Static looked up, slightly startled. Joaquin met his gaze before turning away, brushing past the group of investigators, reporters, and anxious but horrified onlookers who had come to see if the latest victim was one of their relatives or friends.

Static went from being startled to puzzled. Why was he here? "Hey, wait up," he jogged to catch up to him. "What did you mean exactly by it being her time to die?"

Joaquin glanced at the boy out of the corner of his eye. "The wolf spoke to them fates and they decreed her end. That be all."

"Eh?" Now he was even more confused.

"It be just as I said. Ya know, the fates, them three sisters?"

"Uh, yeah…" He already knew that. The part he was stuck on concerned the fact that Arturo talked to the nonexistent sisters. 'Don't tell me he's some sort of crazy that's listening to voices in his head. That'd be about all I'd need.'

The idea of Arturo being insane gave him mixed feelings. The first were ones of reassurance and a strengthened respect for the average person. Everyone had the potential to do some pretty bad things. He knew that from a few experiences he didn't want to recall at the moment. However, a person could repress those dark tendencies if they were in their right mind. The other feelings of concern and worry branched off from this last point. An insane person had little to no control over their actions since their conscience got cut off at times. Thus allowing Arturo to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted without even thinking he was doing anything wrong. Static was no psychologist but no one could say borrowing Sharon's Psychology books hadn't helped him.

"You seem to know an awfully lot about Arturo, mind cluing me in?"

Joaquin studied him, apparently trying to decide whether or not he was worthy of the knowledge he possessed. Finally, the old man nodded.

"You said it would be better if I searched for wolf-boy if I were on the ground. The only problem with that is, there aren't any tracks to follow, no clues of any sort. How exactly did you intend to find him?"

"By usin' my mind." Joaquin answered easily. "There be no tracks 'cause it hides 'em. B'sides that there be no scent for thems police dogs to follow 'cause it can hide that too." He paused, perhaps to collect his thoughts, then went on, "One time the wolf kilt two people in a short span of time, each of 'ems bein' very far apart. The wolf couldn't run around after 'em both out in the open without ariskin' being seen by others. Sos I thought about it 'n made the conclusion it used the sewers."

He looked around as if searching for something until he found it. A manhole. Joaquin began to lift it. "Here, let me," Static magnetized the cover and dropped it off to the side.

Joaquin gave a nod of thanks but there was no smile on his face. He climbed down the ladder and waved for the boy to follow, which he did. Static jumped down the foot drop at the end of ladder and looked around with a raised, glowing finger. Joaquin produced a flashlight and turned it on. "Come," the man motioned, walking.

It didn't take long before the smell of the place got to Static. He stuffed his other hand over his nose. "Geez, this place reeks."

"Ya get used to it after a while."

A moment of silence passed before Static inquired, "So where exactly are you taking me?" Joaquin looked like he knew where he was going. It was as if there was something he wanted to show him.

"Down a ways," Joaquin explained as the two made their way through the sewers. "There be a place no one knows of 'cept for me, the one who made these sewers, and the wolf. It be a section boarded off from the rest. Probably really old 'n abandoned. I found it once when I wandered 'round outta boredom. I worked down 'ere b'fore a whiles back, incase ya wondered. Not an'more though." He paused once more and it was a moment before he spoke again. Either he was having a hard time coming up with what to say, or he just liked to stop talking abruptly, Static mused. The boy almost jumped when Joaquin spoke again. "'bout a week back, I remembered the place 'n decided to check it afta figerin' the wolf used the sewers to kill them two people I told ya 'bout b'fore."

Joaquin stopped and shown his flashlight on the cement wall before them. There was a huge gapping hole in the middle, surrounded by stray scratch marks that were definitely not manmade. The white light soured into yellow, then flickered. Frowning, Joaquin hit the flashlight against his other hand. Its light strengthened momentarily, only to die out again. "'n I just put in new batteries," he muttered to himself.

Static stepped ahead of him and went through the hole cautiously, looking around with his hand held out in order for him to see. The large room was bathed faintly in the purple light but the back was shrouded in darkness, his light not able to reach that far. Large pillars ran along either side at even intervals until they disappeared into the blackness. The ceiling was curved. A few fallen cement chunks lay on the ground, layered with dust just like the entire floor. There were footprints all over, as if someone had passed through here several times before. Some of them were human, others were of a large dog of some sort. Arturo, Static guessed.

"Don't look like anybody's home," Joaquin said coming up behind him. "Just like last time."

"Where does this lead?"

"To the south end." That was the more run down part of the city, where a few large but poor Hispanic families had accumulated. Other people lived there as well, but it was the Hispanic gangs that ruled supreme. (A/N I really don't know the layout of Dakota, so I guessed. Don't go by what I say in this story, it's pure speculation.)

"Figures."

Joaquin looked at him pointedly with those intense brown eyes but didn't say anything. Instead he turned and stared back the way they'd come. Something about his face gave Static the impression that he was going to leave. He didn't know how he had guessed that since Joaquin was just standing there, he just did. "Hey, man, thanks. I'd probably still be going in circles if you hadn't told me about this place."

Behind them, the air that was once still now stirred as their observer moved. An unseen shadow in his world of darkness. With his breath soft and controlled, his eyes brightened into an eerie purple glow. He knew they'd return when the time was right but now was not their time. The fates spoke nothing of them.

"Leave here." Came the solid command, laden with a Spanish accent.

Static whirled around, his magnetic light brightening upon instinct so that it caught the whole form of Arturo in its purplish tint. The Hispanic boy's eyes dimmed, revealing his weird golden ones. Joaquin merely frowned as he looked at the boy.

"Arturo-" Static was barely able to react to the sudden appearance of the other boy when the sound of something metallic clicking interrupted him. He glanced over at Joaquin and saw the gun in his hand. "No!" Without even a second thought he shoved the old man aside. A discharge rang sharp in his ears. He opened his eyes to see what had happened, fearful.

Arturo was clutching his arm, his shirt stained red with blood. He stared fiercely at them before he turned away and ran through the hole. Joaquin growled at Static and shoved him away, intent on going after the runaway. However, Static was already reaching for his disk. He'd get to wolf-boy before Joaquin could kill him. Once through the hole, he magnetized the disk and jumped on, zooming past the man and catching up to Arturo. Man, that boy could run. Even with the short head start he'd gotten, he was already a fair distance ahead.

Static shot out a blast of purple energy at the boy, enough to throw him off his feet or at least stun him. It was the former of the two that occurred. The metamorphic bangbaby rolled back to his feet, his eyes aglow once more. By now he had long, sharp front canines sticking out from under his upper lip and the beginnings of fur about his face, making him demonic in appearance. He was morphing! Or at least starting to. "Your turn to fall under death's sleep will come soon enough, so don't tempt me," he warned, his voice rough like that of a growling wolf.

"I'm not about to." Static frowned, "But what you need is a time out." Purple energy arched in his hands while he fought to keep himself levelheaded. Too many things were running through his mind as he floated there before Arturo. He kept thinking about the victims he'd seen, the bloody images playing themselves over and over again. The knowledge that this boy was the one responsible was burning just as freshly in his mind. He was face to face with the very person who had killed many innocent people without probable cause. He was so close that it was like staring at death itself. He shivered at the thought.

He was so distracted that he hardly noticed the shift in Arturo's gaze as it moved from him to behind him. By then it was already too late. Pain erupted in the back of his head and his world grew dimmer, rapidly swirling into an overwhelming darkness…

- - - -

Richie glanced at the clock on the wall. It was 10:30 and his parents would be expecting him home soon. With one last look at Backpack he sighed, "Well, until tomorrow, pal." He got up, put his tools away and walked out the door.

He had managed to get one of the more difficult parts fixed and it looked like he would be able to finish before his predicted time. This cheered him up greatly. He knew the sooner he finished, the sooner he could help Virgil. It was important to him that he did. A person could only take so much responsibility and Richie felt Virgil had taken on too much.

Richie himself was certainly glad that there were others who had stepped up to help them in crime fighting. Even if V's huge ego tended to tell them off, a part of Richie figured Virgil was thankful for the help. He thought that way because once he became Gear, his friend accepted him as a sidekick. Though, he reasoned, it was probably because they were already friends in the first place.

Sure he'd get bummed out about being nothing more than a sidekick. However, he decided that at least he was able to do something instead of like the old days where he was just the brains behind the whole outfit. "Sometimes I just wish I would get more credit than I do. Oh well…" he sighed hopelessly and shook his head, knowing all to well that, that would never happen. Not in a million years.

The moment he stepped into his house, his mother greeted him softly at the door. Her face was burdened, eyes practically downcast as she motioned for him to come in and sit down at the table. She sat across from him, placing her hands on her lap, looking at him as if she'd break him if she said anything. He frowned worriedly, something wasn't right. "What's wrong Mom?"

"Honey, Sharon just called… it's Mr. Hawkins."

- - - -

When Static came around again, he was assailed by a huge headache. "Get me the license plate number of that truck, will ya?" he mumbled then groaned while holding his head. The smell of the sewers brought him back to his senses and he instantly made a light but both Arturo and Joaquin where gone. "Dang… How long was I out?" he glanced at his watch. 11:35 He'd been unconscious for three hours!

Sighing, he got to his feet and found his disk. He tossed it into the air and magnetized it before jumping on and making his way to the nearest manhole so that he could get out. Fresh air greeted him and he took a deep thankful gulp of it. It sure was good to be back on the surface but his contentment was short lived. He'd lost track of both wolf-boy and Joaquin. He had no way of knowing what had happened to either of them. All he could remember was being hit in the back of the head by something hard.

Richie's muffled but urgent voice called to him, suddenly. He took out the shock box, "I'm here."

"Hey, you okay? I've been trying to call you for the past hour."

"Sorry, I was a little preoccupied."

"Um… V… I…" Richie hesitated, unsure of how to relay his message.

"What is it?"

"Your father… he's…"

"He's what, Richie, he's what?" He demanded softly as an uncalled for fear began to clutch at his chest. The possibilities of what could have happened whirled in his mind, his imagination getting away with him. He had to cool it, he was probably just overreacting. Calm down… he told himself.

Richie reluctantly answered and all the reassurance Static had just given himself wilted away. His eyes widened, breath caught in his throat, hand loosening its grip on the shock box until the forgotten communicator slipped then fell to the ground with a click-clack.

"V?… V? V!" but none of Richie's concerned cries reached his ears.

Slowly his initial stunned state slipped away, replaced by the cold emptiness of disbelief. He clenched his fists, leaning forwards, tightly squeezing his eyes closed. Purple bolts began to dance around his shaking form. Each time they flickered they grew in strength as his emotions raged a war within him. He refused to believe what Richie had told him even though he knew Richie would never lie to him about something like this. But he still refused to believe it. No. It wasn't true!

"No, no, NOO!" The energy lashed out, striking anything and everything in its path. The sudden surge of electric energy caused most of the area to blackout, leaving Static in a veil of darkness. Leaving him in a shroud in which he could drop to his hands and knees unseen by the world, hidden from curious eyes. He couldn't find the strength to stand any longer. He was too exhausted both emotionally and physically. The tears came easily now, any form of barrier that could have held them back was already torn down. He cried, curling up on the ground and letting loose, sobs racking his body.

A/N Yes, the last part was the evil thing you've all come to hate, a cliffhanger. Mwhahaha! Now you have to speculate on what happened to Robert until the next part. Yes, I am evil. Mwhahaha!


	4. Grief's Rage

The Beauty of Death

Part Four - Grief's Rage

Richie tried several times to get Static to respond but the dark clad hero wouldn't. He debated on whether or not he should leave him alone. His concern won out. Static would want to be left alone but if someone with vile intentions came across him… Let's just say Richie wasn't sure if leaving him by himself was such a good idea.

He changed a few things about his shock box in order to track down the other but got no signal. Something must have happened to Static's. And something had. When Static released the huge wave of electric energy, he'd fried the circuits. Unfortunately, Richie didn't know this. He lowered his box and began yet another deliberation. Maybe the guy would just stay out for a little while. Then, go home after the impact of the news softened enough for him to think coherently, the blond rationalized.

However, his downsizing of his worry and concern only brought more problems the next day. The Foley house got another call from the Hawkins. This time it was a request for Virgil to come home. "I thought he went home," was Richie's answer when questioned. He was being sincere. He honestly thought he would return before it got really late. Apparently, he hadn't. Richie began to regret his last minute decision.

Sharon went ballistic and it wasn't long before a search party was formed. She might have found her younger brother annoying but she cared about him. Especially now. He was the only immediate family she had left.

- - - -

He did not know how long he had stayed there like that, curled up on the ground, crying until he had fallen asleep. He didn't even know how long he'd slept. He wasn't concerned about it. When he awoke, he hadn't even bothered to look at his watch. Time wasn't on his mind. Nothing seemed to be on his mind. He felt hollowed out, completely emptied, devoid of anything solid.

Static untangled himself and stumbled to his feet. His arm automatically thrust itself out against the wall to catch himself when he almost fell face forwards. Straightening he looked ahead, eyes palled, face tear stained. His mind wasn't communicating with the rest of him since the moment it had retreated into its own little world. His body was merely acting on its own.

He started walking, wandering, really, with no one destination in mind. He didn't even notice the inquiring onlookers watching him pass them by without even acknowledging their presence. He didn't hear the screeching tires, so lost was he to the outside world. A vague sense of pain enveloped him as he felt something hit and send him sprawling. He was only conscious enough to stare up at the white sun hanging in the clear blue sky as he lay there. The sun shone so brightly it was as if the sun itself would do its best to penetrate the wall he'd built around himself, to coax him out. But he drifted off and the sun's attempt failed as darkness laid claim over more than just his mind.

- - - -

Richie dodged around yet another nurse, upsetting the tray she was pushing. He made a hasty backwards apology without stopping as he raced on down the hospital hall. He scanned the numbers on the doors as he passed them. "203, 203, come on where is it?" the blond kept muttering to himself.

His impatience paid off when he rounded the corner and skidded to a stop before the room he was looking for, almost missing it in his hurry. "Finally!" he breathed in happy exasperation.

He entered slowly, almost reluctantly, uncertain of what he would find behind the door. Static lay there staring vacantly out the window, propped up by a few pillows. "Hey, V," Richie smiled gently, his voice softened with relief.

Static looked at him, watching his friend make himself comfortable on a chair. "Hi," he responded, his voice barely audible.

"How do you feel?"

"Alright, I guess… I was lucky."

"Boy, I'd say," Richie grinned. Silence fell, Static glanced down at his hands then looked back out the window, not knowing what else to say. Richie felt uneasy in the quiet that had transpired and so broke it. "So… um, think you'll be out of here soon?"

"Yeah."

When it was apparent that Static wasn't going to say anything else, Richie finally allowed the silence to carry its weight. He didn't have to guess what was on the other's mind. His grief was written all over, even in the smallest of his mannerisms. "Look," Richie started in an subdued but sincere tone, "I didn't get a chance to say this before, but I'm really sorry about what happened to your father."

Static's hands balled into fists but he didn't move otherwise. His body tensed as he fought to hold back the wave of torn emotions threatening to break free. His taught face was accented by misty eyes, but he refused to cry now.

Even though Richie couldn't see his face, he easily read his body language. "I know this must be hard for you, but I want you to know that I'll be here for you, okay bro?" He reached forward with a comforting hand. It rested on a trembling shoulder.

"Where," Static lowered his head, closing his eyes, still facing the window, his voice a shaky whisper. "Where did it happen?"

Richie blinked, confused at first but it came to him even as Static asked, "Where was he when he… when he died?"

"East 9, by those two big business buildings."

A sharp intake of breath sounded. Static's eyes snapped open. That was near the manhole Joaquin had led him down. Arturo had been running in that direction, he could have easily gone up there and… "No…" The possibility quickly took root until it became nothing more than the obvious truth. It built itself up, strengthened by his emotions, driven by the want to find an outlet in which to vent the helplessness he'd been forced to feel in the circumstances of his father's death. It became the plan of action, the… want for revenge.

That was the moment he made his decision. He tossed back the blankets and got out of bed.

"V, what are you doing?" Richie stood, becoming alarmed.

"I'm going to make him pay." The disk made its appearance, flipping out like a metal fan prepared for battle.

"V, no, wait."

But he didn't listen. He blasted the windows and flew out.

Richie shouted after him, trying to call him back even though it was futile. He knew it wasn't going to get him anywhere. He had just hoped, no matter how pointless that hope was, that he could stop his friend before he did something stupid. Richie didn't know who that 'he' Static had referred to was, but he'd probably find out sooner or later. He turned to go after him only to be stopped at the door by a male nurse.

"What's going on in here?"

"Static felt good enough to take off, so he left. And right now," he eased his way smoothly around the nurse with a grin and a nervous wave, "I gotta go, bye!" He dashed down the hall before the nurse could say anything in response.

Richie knew he couldn't catch Static on foot and he'd left his costume back at the gas station so he went to get it. Backpack wasn't completely fixed but it was operational, at least enough for his purposes, he hoped. It would just have to do. The machine beeped to life. From within it came a small satellite dish-like radar that picked up concentrated electronic activity. He made sure to ignore the electricity plant that came up on his visor, concentrating instead on the other blip… that moved. It was definitely Static. And where else was he but near the place of his father's death.

"I'm on my way, bud," Gear said with a determined frown, even though Static couldn't hear him.

- - - -

Golden eyes looked up into purple-white ones while they studied one another. Both pairs were locked as their owners paused in mid-battle. Breathless, neither of the two relented in the stare down despite their fatigue. The latter pair melted with intensity as the creature crouched with coiled energy in its body, waiting... It's chilled and steely gaze lacked the usual wild wisdom that was so common in wolves. Instead, it was full of a crazed bloodlust, separating it from the wolf-kind. You see, the intelligence that the golden eyed animal lacked was what made wolves unique from all other living things. It was one of the many qualities that gave wolves majesty. Calling the creature a wolf was demeaning to the species. (A/N See dn1, I'm not trying to taint the reputation of wolves!)

The former pair smoldered in purple light, a burning hate fueling the force that lit them. Electric energy arched out in burning snaps and crackles from his hands and below his feet which rested firmly on a thin metal disk as he hovered above the beast. It made the already dark parts of him even darker as it illuminated the lighter parts. His white mask seemed to just emit a light of its own because of that, accenting his already fierce eyes. All in all, it gave him a menacing stance that equaled Arturo's crouched form below. The familiarity of this scene, which had occurred in the sewers (only with major differences), was far from his mind.

The stare down ended when Arturo moved, causing Static to flinch and release a blast of energy, though it missed. The metamorphic boy managed to twist his changed body. Then landed further away with claws skimming on the ground as he skidded back a bit in a swerve upon touching, creating small clouds of dust around his feet. He lurched to a stop, head hunched down a little, shoulders raised, fur bristled, eyes aglow, teeth baring as an consternating growl escaped him. He was ready to charge forwards, intent on returning the favor of Static's nearly successful attack. Only, his assault would make contact, he'd make certain of that.

"Static!" Gear's shout seared the tense battle air.

Arturo looked skywards, ears perked, but he had a shifty mind-set. The sudden appearance of the green clad boy had startled him. Frightened him to the point where he felt threatened by the newcomer. He lunged for the airborne Gear, temporarily forgetting Static. That had been his mistake.

"No, Gear, look out!" Static shot another blast, eyes no longer glowing as anxious fear caused him to act quickly. Electromagnetic energy struck the wolf from behind but it was already too late. Gear hardly had time to react as the electrified animal fell forwards, knocking him from the air and pinning him to the ground with its heavy body.

Static was about to lift Arturo off of his friend but the wolf was already getting up. "Get off of him you killing bastard!"

The disorientated Arturo stepped away but it was more because he was dazed from being shocked rather than Static's threatening tone. He shook his large head, trying to clear it, and then refocused his frenzied gaze on Static, who was helping Gear to his feet.

"I want you to leave right now," Static was saying.

"No. If you plan to fight this guy, then I'm staying here too. We're a team, remember?"

"Fine," he said brusquely, meeting the oversized animal's stare. Though, Gear wasn't sure if his rather blunt agreement had been because he wanted to fight Arturo by himself for vengeful purposes. (For Gear now knew that the 'he' Static had spoken of was Arturo, and that Static thought Arturo to be his father's killer, which could have very well been true.) Or… perhaps the reason for his curt response had a more concerned motive behind it. The two heroes had fought side by side before; but what made this day different from the others was that Static had already lost a parent the previous day. He probably didn't want to chance loosing his best friend as well.

But how could Static expect him to stay away when Gear knew his bud was fighting a battle like this? Gear would have remained even if the other boy continued telling him to go. And, no, it wasn't because he remembered what had happened to the one lone metahuman who had come across Arturo. No, it had nothing to do with that.

A low growl signaled the beginning of another round, Arturo taking a step forward. Gear reached for a zap cap, ready. Static drew the wolf's attention away from the other hero by flying a little lower and off to the side. Taking the bait, Arturo turned, obviously more interested in objects that moved. Gear threw his cap quickly. It activated as it flew through the air, long metallic coils stretching out, seeking to detain. They wrapped themselves around the animal's legs first, tripping him up. One coil found its way around his mouth and clamped it shut in a loud snap. He landed on the ground with a heavy thud, head first, eyes wincing shut. He opened them, a fury burning within them. What could be seen of his muzzle was wrinkled as he snarled within his throat, unable to open his mouth.

"That was easy," Gear said, grinning at his friend.

"Thanks…" Static looked at him then down at the struggling creature. He was partially relieved but he felt that capturing Arturo and sending him off to the Metahuman Detainment Clinic wasn't satisfying enough. He still felt resentment towards the bangbaby and wished he could have pounded him some more before handing him over.

He got his wish… but not without a price. One that would cripple the confidence he had in himself once this was all over.

A/N: A note on my a/n in the middle of this. I have a friend who was worried that I was going to give wolves a bad name because of what I was doing with Arturo. Her name's duonumber1, but I call her dn1 for short. I absolutely love wolves! They are such wonderful creatures!


	5. All Just a Dream?

The Beauty of Death

Part Five - All Just a Dream?

Arturo broke free of the coils. The metallic restraints blew from his body and rained with a tinkling ringing around him, a guttural rumble emanating from deep within his throat. Some human intelligence came, however short lived, and allowed Arturo to speak. "You've threaten the Messenger time and time again, even after I warned you. Now you will both die!" He faked a dive for the boys but then unexpectedly changed direction. He took up a half destroyed dumpster (it being that way from the earlier fight, before Gear showed up) in his claws. Then whipped it at Static, fastening him to the wall.

Static grunted when he made contact. He grit his teeth in effort as he tried to pry the dumpster off with his powers. It took its time in coming loose but he managed to succeed in the end. He pushed it away and let it drop with a clunk-thump sound. With an upward glance, he saw that Arturo was once more upon Gear. The boy's mechanical backpack was attempting to give aid, but sparks discharged from its gored side. Apparently wolf-boy had chomped out a section of it.

"Some help would be greatly appreciated right about now!" Gear called uneasily as he tried to fend Arturo off. He couldn't reach any of his zap caps, which he hoped to throw into the wolf's face.

Static moved forwards quickly. Arturo's ear flicked back. He heard him coming. He turned his head slightly so that he could see him from the corner of his eye. One of his tails whipped out, connecting with the black boy's midsection and sending him sprawling, temporarily knocking him into a breathless daze, where everything was muffled. He couldn't see anything really. And wasn't able to get himself to move as he lay crumpled, the back of his head resting against a wall with the remainder of him on the ground.

Arturo turned his attention back to the boy he had pinned under his paws. At that moment, time seemed to have slowed considerably for Gear even though what happened next flashed by in just a few seconds. The metamorphic boy was drawing back his lips to reveal his glinting teeth, saliva dripping with expectation. Staring up at that mouth, Gear could count every single tooth. He could feel the hot but stale breath of death on the animal's exhalation. He knew what was coming. He knew and couldn't stop it. Gear felt a sudden fearful sickness clutching his stomach. His pupils contracting. Breath catching at the bottom of his lungs. Throat constricting. Mouth drying. Unable to swallow. Panic was setting in. Body freezing in terror. Wolf teeth closing in. Chomping down. Pulling sharply sideways and up with rancorous snarls. Muzzle moistening with blood. Searing pain enraptured Gear's entire being as the shredding teeth tore at his flesh. He let out a shriek.

The frantic cry broke through the haze that was Static's mind and despite his spinning head he rose to investigate. His world swam about him. He held his head and shook it a little, supporting himself with a shoulder against the wall. Looking up, he waited for his eyes to focus. Once they did, he instantly wished they hadn't. "Gear…" he choked. "No! Richie!"

Dizziness forgotten, he shoved away from the wall and ran at Arturo, blasting him from his limp friend's body. "Richie, come on, say something!" He dropped to his knees in front of him, hands hovering but fearful to touch.

Gear turned his head in small jerky increments to look directly at Static. Pain etched his face, eyebrows scrunched upwards. But past the pain his eyes spoke volumes, trying to say… something unreadable, comforting, perhaps. He wanted to speak, to say anything in the inevitability of his situation, for he felt his life slipping, draining away. He didn't have much longer before it would be too late. But his mouth wouldn't work, his lips moving mutely. The only sound he managed to make was an unintelligible garble spoken solely by those who were badly wounded, or about to die. He closed his eyes then, unable to hold on, head lolling to the side, a soft but resisting sigh signaling his refusal to leave his friend before he could talk to him one last time. But the pain was just too much and he fell under a sea of darkness. Letting go completely of his grip on life, his body became forever still. His body sunk upon the ground as all dead things do, as if in doing so they would sink into the very earth from which they were created.

Static watched in horror, vacillating disbelief laying claim to his face. His shoulders dropped, flaccid. He'd just lost two of the precious few who were important to him; lost them both with only a night to lessen the strength of his heartache's blow. He looked up at Arturo who was standing by, a spectator of his grief. The changed boy was being decent, or maybe cruel, enough to let Static watch his friend die without attacking him while he was sidetracked.

Static got to his feet then, sweeping up his devastated shell of emotions like fragile eggshell. He was too strained, too shattered to feel anything for certain. Whether he was angry, heart rendered, overwhelmed or… anything, he couldn't define what he felt. Plagued without any real, solid thing to feel, he glared at Arturo. "You killed my father and then you killed my best friend. You don't even deserve to be locked up!"

Curling down from around an outstretched arm, a purple bolt twisted about his hand, growing strongest at his palm. He flung the built up energy at Arturo in a forced steady stream but it wasn't enough to lift the animal off the ground. He made a small growl and immediately added his other hand to the mix, doubling the power flowing from him, achieving his goal. He turned then, violently throwing his airborne and helpless opponent into the wall. Then turned again, this time sending Arturo crashing into the opposite wall. Once more, then again, back and forth until he could no longer maintain control over the strain that the weight put on him. His emotions no longer giving him the edge he needed to continue. He released his hold and shrunk back a step in weariness, sweat sticky on his face, breaths quick and short. But his eyes remained leveled on Arturo, who had landed in a bloody thud, red droplets splattering the ground. Once the body stilled from the fall, bright liquid drizzled from his mouth and nose.

Seeing the blood, Static stopped. That wasn't Gear's blood. His was only on the wolf's muzzle. It wouldn't be flowing out like that. His breath caught even though his heart still pumped fast from the effort he'd put forth just moments before. He could feel his chest burning, wanting to burst, but he paid it little heed as realization of what he'd just done oozed its way into his consciousness. For the millionth time, comprehending the events in his life became hard, even unbearable to accept. The thought broke through even though his mind didn't want it to. He had hurt Arturo worse than he'd ever hurt someone in a fight. He might have even killed him!

Staring at his gloves, hands shaking. He almost wanted to take them off, no, tear them off. Throw them. Stomp on them. Vaporize them. Anything that would give his troubled soul some comfort in knowing that he had destroyed at least a part of what was responsible for what he'd just done. Instead, he dropped his hands and looked back at Arturo.

Maybe he wasn't hurt too badly. Maybe he could get the police's attention and they'd take Arturo to the hospital and make sure he was alright. His desperation was making him throw out wild ideas, unviable possibilities. Static walked over to the downed bangbaby and knelt, reaching out attentively with a hand to see what kind of injuries he'd sustained. His hand was drifting over the boy's muzzle when it happened.

Golden eyes snapped open. Muscles rippled. The head heaved up. Lightening quick jaws clamped down on his outstretched hand, surprising him. Arturo snarled as he ground his teeth, cracking delicate bones and causing Static to yell in pain. He gave Arturo a small shock forcing him to release him. He pulled his broken hand away and grimaced at it as it hung uselessly.

Arturo found a hidden reserve of strength and climbed to his feet, towering over the knelt hero, but not without great effort. His stance teetered, showing that he could easily be pushed over with one shove. That he was standing at all illustrated his determination. He would not stop until he destroyed this boy who had beaten him.

Static was also weary and wasn't sure if he could even spend anymore energy in this battle without risking collapse. He was worn and torn from the constant war his emotions had carried him through the past two days. Though the large amounts of energy he'd already spent fighting Arturo played a big part as well. "I don't want to fight you anymore. You can barely stand. Give it a rest."

Arturo snarled, as if to say he would hear none of that. His mind was already set. He wasn't going to back down now. Static shook his head, "No, no more." He took a backwards step to signal he wasn't going to fight. With his face still mostly towards Arturo, he risked a glance in Gear's direction. A wash of regret came over him but he couldn't focus on it, not now.

He looked back at the relentless teenager, who was somehow managing to walk towards him. What drove him? What crazy thought kept him going? None of it made any sense. He should have been dead after the beating Static had given him. Yet, like some stubborn insistence he drove on, intent on taking him out. He just wouldn't stay down.

Static was going to try one more thing. If he failed, then he was a goner. As things stood, he wasn't even sure if he had enough energy to fly. He needed to recharge badly. Though even with the extra power, he'd probably still be exhausted, he realized. Rest was the best remedy but he couldn't get that here.

"Luck, don't fail me now," he wished quietly to himself. Gathering what little power he had, he concentrated it on the dumpster and grunted from the effort. The dumpster rose shakily, threatening to buckle free of his hold. It shuttered downwards several times, making him think it was playing tug-of-war with him, but he kept at it. He wasn't able to lift it high enough and he noticed that Arturo was practically on top of him by now. He had no choice but to give up on the dumpster and lash out instead with pure energy. The wolf cringed, howling in pain. The sound was bloodcurdling. It took everything in him to keep zapping Arturo without shuddering, which would have disrupted the transfer of electromagnetic power from his body to Arturo's.

Suddenly, Arturo lowered his head from his howl, defiantly glaring at him with those unnatural eyes of his. There was something smug, something deadly in that gaze that made Static's heart jump. If a wolf could smirk, Arturo was certainly doing a very good job of it.

Against all laws of nature, the beast started for him. No mark of pain ravaged his form. He just kept coming forwards. An indestructible demon loosed upon the world. Something wasn't right. Something wasn't right! Static's instincts screamed. Even when he tried to magnetize Arturo to the ground, he kept coming. Impossible! How could he still be moving?

Arturo's smirk grew. Each step he took seemed to grow with confident vigor. All signs of weariness drained away from him like the blood that was streaming from his mouth and nose. Static stopped the flow of energy coming from his hands and shrunk back. He was wobbly on his feet, unable to keep a steady footing, his strength having quickly ebbed away from overuse of his powers. This wasn't making any sense! This couldn't be happening!

Static looked up helplessly at the overwhelming form of Arturo, unable to defend himself for the most part. Still unable to grip the fact that his powers were now useless against the metamorphic bangbaby he raised his hands one more time. A spark. Then a lacing bolt shot from his hands.

…No… Static don't… the soft but hollowed words echoed in his mind, surreal, drifting like smoke and fading away without any real substance.

He could feel his legs buckling under him. Head growing light. Eyesight blurring and making it hard to focus. He could still make out the large, threatening form looming over him. He kept throwing everything he had left at it. A desperate panic was settling in like a new friend who was intent on staying by his side. If he couldn't stop Arturo, wolf-boy would most definitely kill him! Then what would happen? He would fail! He would fail where he promised he wouldn't!

Static, stop… those weird words requested again, clearer this time. No, he couldn't stop. If he stopped, he would be resigning, allowing Arturo to win. He would not do that. His desperation tore into him like a blade, giving his wasted body another burst of sharp, heated strength. Like a searing metal warmed by a fire, his powers poured from him, hot and painful beyond description. A growing white heat. A white ache. It hurt to keep his eyes open or to raise his head. So he gave up on seeing and keeping his head up. His body was failing under him, he sensed, but kept giving of himself anyway.

Static! Stop! Something shook him physically. It startled him so much that his eyes snapped open again, staring at a fuzzy ground. Someone had actually taken him by the shoulders and shaken him. This fact shattered through his confused and terror stricken haze but he'd lost too much of himself to stay awake and configure it, to understand where the voice was coming from, and who shook him. He slipped under, no sensation of falling embracing him as one would expect.

- - - -

A second after he fainted, Static snapped awake. He would have jerked up too if he wasn't so tired when he came around. Darkness zoomed in on him instantly, illuminated only by several dull blue lights that blinked on and off at odd intervals. Then he realized that those lights were reflecting off of a glass window. Looking to the left he saw the same lights blinking, accompanied by a soft hum of machinery. He tried to look farther left but found his movement was restricted by something.

"Here, I'll get that off and then we'll get you out of here."

That voice! Static whipped his head around, instantly regretting doing it when it brought on a swirl of dizziness. He closed his eyes until it passed, then cautiously opened them again. "Richie?" His voice sounded foreign to him, hoarse as if from constant yelling. Something came off from around his neck with a metallic clank.

"Of course, who else?"

"But… you-" he was interrupted by a loud ringing sound.

"Dang it, they've found me." Richie cursed to himself, then directed his attention back to Static, "Come on, we don't have much time before they come pouring in here like Niagara Falls. Think you can get up?"

"Yeah," Static responded slowly, confused. What was going on? How did he get here? Where was Arturo, and why was Richie alive? He must have been too sluggish in getting to his feet because Richie suddenly pulled him up and directed him off of the flat surface he'd been lying on. Static practically fell forwards against Richie's chest, almost knocking the blond over. But his friend caught him and lifted him by the arms, steadying him.

"Lean on me." Richie directed. Static complied, embarrassed but still too much in a daze to not do as he was told.

He lost all sense of time from that point on. Not that he ever had it in the first place since the time he'd awakened. He was just too confused, just too tired. He hardly saw the darkened hallways or remembered the stairs they climbed down, much less the way from which they'd come. He couldn't even recall the time when he felt himself being passed to another able body. This person lifting him up off from the ground and holding him in its arms. He didn't even know when he became unconscious again.

When he woke up, he found himself in a small room. There was a window at the foot of the bed on which he laid, sunlight pouring in from outside, letting him know it was some time mid-afternoon. A chair rested against the wall opposing the wall against which the bed was set. Otherwise than that, the place was bare.

The sound of a door opening caught Static's attention and he turned in his bed to see who it was. The door was on the forth wall, being opposite of the window. In stepped, none other than Richie. He looked very happy to see him. "So you finally decided to join the land of the living, eh?" he quipped, not caring if he was using a clichéd statement.

"What happened?" Static asked.

"A lot, but basically it involves a solar storm causing a major power outage," he was numbering off the events with his fingers as he spoke, "the Big Bang, and then the gathering of the metahumans for a source of power."

Static gave him a blank look.

"Eh, right," Richie's smile failed, sighing as he scratched the side of his head, looking downwards as if he'd just said something foolish. "You probably don't remember any of it after being tied up in that virtual world for so long. How's about I start from the beginning?"

A/N Sorry for taking a while on getting the last two parts up… I started up school again after the Christmas break and then it took me forever to write this stuff. Especially that battle scene in part four, and part five as a whole. I am very particular when it comes to stuff like that. I end up going over it a hundred times before I think it's good enough. Call me a perfectionist.

Thanks StaticShock'sgirl for reviewing! grins You made a good guess about Virgil's dad. Wouldn't it have been a shocker if his father was just badly wounded? lol


	6. Commentary

The Beauty of Death  
Commentary

A commentary! I actually have a commentary! That means I can talk about my story! Yay! someone hits her on the head Owie… okay, okay, I'll calm down. sniffs Meanies....

I apologize if I fried anyone's brains out with the heavy writing that was in the last scene of part four and all of part five. The reason was because I was trying to arouse suspense in you guys, and when I want to portray a certain emotion, I tend to get kind of deep and wordy. It's probably a bit rusty as well, since I usually don't write suspenseful stuff. At least, not in this fashion. I don't know. I'm a confused individual! feigns crying, sniffs I just hope it worked.

Originally, I had no intentions of putting that plot twist at the end. It was just going to be a fanfic about Static capturing a crazy wolf-boy but then my mind began pestering me with weird, twisted ideas and well… you've seen the results. At least it gives me something more to write, like a sequel! And what do I mean by that? Well…

I know you people are going to hunt me down and kill me once I tell you that this story is completed, but it is. Otherwise, why would I have a commentary smack dab in the middle? As I said before though, there is a sequel, of sorts. It actually starts before, goes through, then continues after this story. It explains a lot of things. And sadly, it is a whole lot longer than this story was. So much for writing short stories… grumbles to self, then sighs Well, guess that's just the way things go…

Part five seemed a little rushed towards the end… Or is that just me? I need people to tell me. I'll probably just leave it for a month or so, come back and reread the story and fix any mistakes. That always works. But still, a writer needs people to critique his or her work. (I think that's been stressed plenty by English teachers neh? realizes something Great, now I'm starting to sound like one of them…) Though I know you guys love to read just to read. Maybe even just to find out what crazy concussions people come up with, hehe! (I must have a fetish for the word crazy… I'm using it way too much…)

Hmm.. what else? I know there's something else I wanted to say… Oh yeah! The meaning behind the title of this story! Originally I was going to call it Beautiful But Deadly, referring to Arturo. The title still refers to Arturo but um… I don't know, I guess I liked The Beauty of Death better. Plus it could double for some deeper meaning. What's that meaning? I think I'll end up explaining that in the next story actually, so I won't say anything more on that. thinks for a moment I'll probably end up having trouble explaining it even in the next story! Geez… Well, let's just hope I explain it one way or another, otherwise the title loses its uh… quality, meaning, whatever you want to call it.

Here's a scene I cut out because I thought it messed up the flow of the story. It takes place after Static leaves the hospital. There is a spoiler, but I don't think it'll hurt anyone to know. You find out in the next story after all, and it's not really that important to the story. Maybe it is. I can't decide, so you decide for me! grins

Richie knew he couldn't catch up to Static on foot and he'd left his costume back at his house. He would get into it, fly around and look for the hero by eye alone. The only problem: it would take a long time to find him. Even as the blond ran, a wild idea came to mind. Instead of searching for Static, he was going to see if he could find the old man Virgil had told him about. Maybe that man knew the 'he' Static had talked about and by finding that 'he' he was sure to find Static. It was by far the most farfetched thing he'd ever come up with! How he ever thought it would actually work was beyond him. He brushed it aside, better to think wild than to have nothing at all. Though even that was a crazy thought.

The moment he was in his room he flipped the computer on, anxiously drumming his fingers on the desk as he waited. Luckily it was a fast computer. He straightened eagerly once it booted up and typed the name Joaquin into the people search for the Dakota area, getting seven results. He was about to print off the list when a familiar name caught his eye. Ramírez. He whistled. "Coincidence? I think not."

End Scene

Better to think wild than to have nothing at all, that's my philosophy in life! Do you like it? I sure do! That's how I get all my crazy ideas! (Oi, there's that word again…) Hehe. Anyway, that's about it for my commentary. Ja ne! Er, I mean, good bye! waves


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